Six Days
by CardioQueen
Summary: The Bangcentric version of Six Days in my eyes.
1. Prologue

_Time. Our lives revolve around it. Time is miraculous. It heals wounds, old and new. It grasps old ways of thinking and presents new perspectives. Only through time can we grow, learn, become better people. But there's this thing with time, as wonderful as it may be, we never have enough. _

Cristina listened silently as Derek mumbled suggestions quietly to himself, observing the X-Ray's of Burke's arms, trying to make out what seemed to be an internal dialogue externalized. A struggle to grasp the situation at hand and conquer it.

She moved her hand absently back and forth over Burke's muscular shoulder, his skin soft under her finger tips and she felt his eyes, cold and penetrating come upon her and she continued anyway.

"You're going to have to have another surgery." Derek finally spoke in a steady and even tone, his voice unwavering. "There's no way around it."

Burke rose to his feet, pulling away from Cristina and walked to the lightboard to observe his films, "Scar tissue compressing the nerve."

"Most likely formed during the wake-up test from one of the arterial clips." Derek interjected, "You're a big guy, Burke, and you were fairly hard to calm down."

Cristina suddenly wished that she had gone home in that moment as two sets of eyes fell upon her accusingly, and she looked away, jamming her hands in the pocket of her blue jeans.

What the hell was she supposed to do? He was trashing on the table, tied down like it was a torture device. Did they really expect her to lack that much emotion not to care if her boyfriend, the man she loved was in pain? Did they really think she would be able to stomach the bile that rose in the back of her throat as he gagged on the tube that was maintaining his airway, as he beautiful, deep brown eyes rolled back in his head from the pain that racked his body?

She parted her lips, finally finding her voice, "So surgery?" She came back to Burkes side, grabbing his arm, trying to enforce her words that she'd uttered only days ago. She was sticking.

Derek nodded, "You know the procedure, Burke. Just go in and scrape the scar tissue..."

"From the area compressing the nerve. The question is, Shepherd, can you do it without damaging the nerve." His words were razor sharp, in true form.

"It would involve another wake-up test to ensure that the nerve function was still intact, but after the conjoined twins, scar tissue compressing the nerve is simplicity defined." He replied, slightly wounded from his colleague's words.

"When?" Cristina managed to choke out after hearing the words wake-up test, "I need to put the Chief on notice."

Burke glanced down at her, his icy glare letting up momentarily and replaced with question in his eyes.

"So I can take time off."

A stunned silence overwhelmed the room for an uncomfortable period of time as their eyes came to rest on her a second time and she closed her eyes, letting out a long exhale, "Can you just give me a damn date for the surgery and quit looking at me like that?"

"I would have to confirm it on my schedule, but I think that I have a clear spot on Tuesday."

"Two days from now?" Cristina questioned.

"Yes, Cristina. Two days from now." Derek repeated calmly, "That is of course if it's okay with your...with Burke."

Burke clenched is jaw and Cristina could see the doubt in his eyes and heard the unusual amount of reservation in his voice when he finally spoke, "If that is what is necessary, I cannot argue."

"How long will he need to stay inpatient?" Cristina quickly followed up Burke's question, trying to draw his attention away from the doubt and blame that Burke was trying to place on Shepherd.

"Four days at most, provided there's no sign of infection. It's a much less complicated surgery."

Cristina nodded, "Okay. What about the recovery time afterward? How much physical therapy will he require? It won't take as long?"

"The physical therapy shouldn't be an issue, so long as you continues the exercises that were provided to him at home." He looked to Burke, "You could be back in the OR and on top of your game in three weeks, max. But with the recovery you've made, considering all facts, I could clear you in a week and a half."

"Considering all facts, you cleared me too early last time." Burke finally spoke, frustration raging within him that this was even happening, that he would require more surgery.

"I'm going to take that as my cue to leave, Cristina, Dr. Burke." Shepherd met eyes with Burke, and to Cristina it seemed for a moment that they may lurch at each other and throw punches, and unconsciously she tightened her grasp on Burke's arm.

But Shepherd disappeared from the room without event and he pulled his arm away from her hands silently, looking away from the pain that crossed her expression as he did so.

"So, I know, that you're not talking to me. And that we're not on the best of terms right now, but I need a ride home because Meredith is already gone, and I need to talk to the Chief to get time off, so if you could wait for me..." Her voice trailed off.

He pulled his shirt on, and began to work at the buttons slowly, his fine motor dexterity still greatly affected by the scar tissue, and she saw his hand tremor slightly as he worked at the buttons.

She'd ignored it every morning, letting him fight his own war with his own clothing, thinking if she'd just wait it would get better.

But Cristina knew better and crossed the room, taking the seams in her own hands, and worked the buttons into their holes as his hands came to rest gently on her arms. Her eyes stung with tears of frustration as they trailed up his chest button by button until she reached the top and her gaze met his.

"I can't take this anymore." She bit back the tears threatening to spill, "What do I have to do to make you talk to me? To make you forgive me?"

He didn't say anything as the first tear spilled from her expressive almond eyes, but instead reached up to brush it from her face with his thumb, then pulled her close so he didn't have to see her cry the tears that he caused.

With each tear that slipped from her eyes, each sob stifled, a little bit more of the angry resolve he'd spent a week building up began to slip away and he only held her tighter in her arms.

Silently he cursed himself. He'd lost a week hating her when it could've been a week more that he loved her.


	2. Day One

Day One

Burke brushed his lips across Cristina's forehead as he pulled the sheets that she'd kicked off of her unclothed body during what little sleep she did get, and she stirred slightly under his lips, a smile turning up the corners of her mouth.

"Good morning." He mumbled, kissing her again, trying to make up for time lost.

"Is it morning already?" She mumbled, her voice still thick with sleep and her eyes came to focus on him.

"It is."

Her heart swelled deep within her chest as she studied his face and found the cold and uncaring glare that she'd nearly grown accustomed to in the past days were gone, and his loving eyes that she'd accustomed herself to had returned. "Keep talking." She finally said to him, her fingers tracing down his cheek and over his lips.

"Keep talking?" He raised an eyebrow and kissed her fingertips.

"That's what I said."

"Why do you want me to keep talking?" He lowered himself next to her on the bed and pulled her into his arms.

"I could give you the mushy reasons why, or you could just accept that I want you to talk to me, and then talk."

"And if I asked for the mushy reasons?" He trailed his hand painfully down her side, her body responding unwillingly to his touch.

"I'd say that I thought you knew me better than that." She put her hand over his, forcing it to come to a halt, and she relaxed a little.

"Thought I'd try." He shrugged.

"What are we doing today?"

"You have the next 8 days off. Do we really need to do anything?" He lowered his voice and began to move his hand up and down her curves once more, enjoying the response he could make her elicit with such little effort.

"I'm a workaholic with a God complex. Lazing in bed and around the house is not my forte." She reminded him, shivering slightly as his hand snaked his way over her hip and down the top of her thigh.

"Who said we were lazing in bed?" A familiar wicked grin spread over his face and she sat up in the bed pushing his hand away, "We're not doing that all day either."

He pulled her back down to him and kissed her, his hand firm on the back of her neck as he fought to commit the feel of her lips against his that had faded in the week that he pushed her away.

She broke from the kiss and shook her head lightly as she studied him, then placed a softer kiss in his lips, leaning over him, wishing that he'd continue to push her over that edge where she couldn't resist anymore.

His hands found their way to her waist and he pulled her on top of him, their mouths still locked in a heavy kiss.

"I said we couldn't do this all day." She whispered breathlessly.

"I don't see you fighting it." He contended, as his hands rediscovered her curves, painstakingly working their way to her chest.

"That's beyond the point. You're the strong willed one."

"And you're the stubborn one."

She reached back down and their mouths met again as his hands found her breasts.

The shrill ring of the phone drew their attention away from each other and they let out a collective sigh.

"You get it." She mumbled pulling herself off of him.

"What are you doing?" He asked watching her traipse across their room naked, his eyes unable to pull themselves from her body as he rose from the bed, advancing towards the living room.

"I'm taking a shower."

"A cold one?" He joked as he picked up the phone, "Hello?"

It was Bailey requesting that Cristina forego a day off, 'just for today' to assist on Mr. O'Malley's surgery.

He had requested her.

They couldn't have a whole day together to just enjoy each other without the hospital somehow coming between them.

Secretly he hoped that she would turn down the offer, but he knew Cristina all too well, and he knew that hoping that she would choose to stay home from work when requested to come and scrub in on a surgery was fairly unreasonable.

Instead, he gathered her scrubs and the pink undershirt that she favored and laid them out across the bed, then prepared her a travel mug with fresh coffee in it.

When she emerged from the bathroom and found her scrubs laid on the bed, she bit her lip, trying to refrain from smiling. The hospital had come through again, reprieving her from a painful day of talking and sharing feelings regarding what had happened as of late.

She knew that she could only distract him from the self-disclosure that she'd have to give into at some point for so long.

Cristina pulled the scrubs on and clipped her wet hair back and moved into the living room quietly, almost afraid to say anything.

"Mr. O'Malley is having surgery today. He requested you." Burke held out a mug of coffee for her.

"Burke, I'm sorry..." Her voice trailed off, "We still have a week, a week together, no matter what the circumstance."

To make up for a week lost, he thought to himself.

"It's okay, Cristina. The hospital called for you. It's not like you called the hospital." He assured her.

She grabbed her keys from the bureau by the door and pulled the door open, "I'll be home as soon as possible."

"I'll be waiting."

He watched as the door closed, wishing that it would open up and she'd say those three little words to him that meant so much. Wishing that he could hear them from her just once.

They still had a week. He told himself, they still had time.


	3. Day Two

Day Two

Burke glanced down into his sock drawer where he had placed the ring where he'd taken the opportunity to purchase while Cristina was at work and let out a long exhale, pulling it out.

He walked towards the living room, his heart pounding.

There had to be somewhere he could hide it and she wouldn't be able to find it. He settled on the cupboard where he kept the pots and pans. In all the months that they had lived together, he'd never once see her get in there.

She emerged from the bedroom in a tank top and jeans, wet curls dropping onto her shoulders, "What are you doing?"

Her eyes trailed to the cupboard that his hands rested on, "I thought that we were going to lunch? Did you change your mind?"

He jumped at the sound of her voice and spun on his heel, "No...just, uh...putting away a pan."

"When did we use a pan?" She pressed, noticing his jumpiness, sensing he was up to no good.

Burke moved to her and pulled her close, kissing her forehead, "How was work yesterday? You never told me."

"Mr. O'Malley died."

Burke took pause, feeling as if somebody had hit in him the stomach with a baseball bat, and he felt as if he were gasping for air when he finally choked out, "What happened?"

"I got him back." She winked, "He had a deep laceration to the superior vena cava and he was bleeding out like crazy and he flatlined, and I just grabbed the stuff and I did it- the running whipstitch, like you taught me, and I thought Hahn was going to have an infarct right there..."

"You could start out the story with he's still alive, Cristina." He exhaled, bracing himself against the counter, slightly put off by her demeanor.

"Sorry. But it'd lose it's effectiveness if I did that." She grinned.

He shook his head, "You had better go finish getting ready if we're going to get lunch at a decent hour."

"They serve lunch 24 hours a day in some restaurants." She shot back, walking away from him.

"The one that I want to take you to stops serving lunch in an hour."

He watched her disappear from site and his mind turned back to the ring in the cupboard. It traced through his thoughts that he could propose at the restaurant. He knew her face would light up. He knew that she'd say yes, but her reaction would be lacking.

Lacking in comparison, that is, to what she'd do if she was going back for her first day of work, went to fill her coffee mug that always awaits her by the coffee pot, and found a ring.

No, he would wait until after they got home, deciding it would be worth the extra wait to see her reaction.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The rest of the day moved much too quickly for either of them, and they found themselves in bed all too soon. Both dreading the arrival of the next day, both holding to each other tightly as if they might lose one and other if they let go.

"What time do we have to wake up?" Cristina mumbled low, her fingers moving lightly over his bared chest, errantly spreading kisses her and there.

"Shepherd wants me admitted by 7, knowing the admissions lab and the registrar, we should probably get there at 5."

Her heart sank in her chest as she looked over his shoulder at the clock to see that it was already midnight. "We should sleep. It's late and tomorrow is going to be a hard day for you."

He rolled away from her and moved the alarm clock so that it would face away from their eyes and pulled her back into his arms, his fingers resuming their activity of running through her untamed hair.

"You shouldn't do that." She mumbled, trying to feign exhaustion as she buried her face into his chest, "You know that we have to get up early, and you know that you need your rest before the surgery."

A heavy sadness hung over their bed as they continued to just breathe, take each other in, and deny that after tomorrow that their lives would be difficult once again, that their relationship would be in the face of adversity once again.

He pulled her closer, his lips brushing against her neck, his hands sliding down her sides to find her hips and he smiled against her neck as he felt her give into him, an involuntary moan escaping her lips unbidden.

She found herself fighting for breath as he explored her body with his mouth and arched her back in response, her fingernails lightly dragging up his arm, succumbing to his work momentarily, then she stopped, pushing him away.

"Burke, we can't do this again."

He smiled at the fact that she was nearly breathless, "And why not?"

"Because you need rest...you have to have surgery tomorrow, we don't have time to do this."

He tipped her chin so that their lips met in a fleeting kiss, "The clock says that we have four hours. I say, we have all the time in the world."


	4. Day Three

Day Three

The sun hadn't even begun to rise over the Seattle skyline as Burke and Cristina advanced towards the glass and concrete fortress that owned both of them.

She reached out to grasp has hand, an unexpected move on her behalf, her reinforcement to him that she was going to stick through this.

He stopped walking and pulled her close, sensing her rising anxiety level, "It's just four days." He mumbled low to her, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

"I know."

"Four days, and we can go home, and then you have another day off before you have to go back to work, right?" He urged.

"I know."

"Cristina." He cupped her face in his hands, "This won't last forever. This won't be as complicated as the last surgery. The tremor will be gone, I can go back to work, you'll go back to work, and we'll be fine. Everything will be easier from now on, I promise you."

His heart ached to see her with such reservation, such pain in her eyes as she studied him for a moment, then faked a smile, "I don't like easy."

"Yes you do." He shook his head, interlacing his fingers with hers as they approached the hospital.

Normally the rush of entering the hospital was the one that Cristina enjoyed, but as she entered it took everything in her not to choke on the sterile air, for her to not want to walk out, leave, and forget the place ever existed in the pretense of being the family member of a patient.

A family member.

Did she really consider herself to be his family? She thought, their fingers still interlocked with one and other as they made their way to the admissions lab. She was sticking, as she called it. She wasn't going anywhere.

The only logical step then would be for her to be his family.

She pushed the thoughts from her mind though, reminding herself it was better to focus on the here and now and to worry about the future later.

Cristina knew she would have plenty of time during the surgery to think about anything else but the present.

Her spirits continued to dampen as she watched the phlebotomist obtain specimens from Burke, though she tried to distract herself by identifying which each one was obtained prior to surgery and what the numbers meant for each test ordered and what the implications were for the surgery if a single number was off.

She followed quietly as they assigned him to room 4815, a private room not too far from the room where she'd left him alone for so long the first time, and silently she thanked the powers that be that the old room was occupied by Mr. O'Malley.

He laid his bag down in the corner and looked to the bed, opting instead to sit in the chair next to it, and she sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes looking to the clock nervously, "I wonder where Shepherd is. He's probably off ogling Meredith somewhere."

"Cristina." He chided her lightly, his eyes focused on the floor.

"Well, he's a surgeon. He should be on time. You're never late." She rambled.

"You've made me late on more than one occasion." He reminded her, finally cracking a hint of a smile.

"No, that was all you."

Shepherd strode into the room in his characteristically ceremonious manner, looking to the couple, "So, I have some bad news."

Cristina looked up, "Bad news? You haven't even done surgery yet, and you have bad news?"

Burke shot her a glance and focused his attention back to Shepherd, "Out with it."

"Your white count is up just a little bit, and I'm postponing the surgery for tomorrow. There's a great risk of osteomyelitis if I cut before I treat the white count, and I'm not willing to risk it." Derek's eyes shifted to Cristina on the bed, "I don't suppose, Cristina, that you would mind going to the pharmacy so that we can get the round started earlier? I wouldn't ask but the other -"

"I'll go." She nodded, raising from the bed, then she looked to Burke, "I'll be right back."

As she disappeared from the room, Shepherd closed the door behind her and looked to him, his voice stern and steady, "There's something else." 

"There's always something else." Burke rose from the chair and crossed to him, "The question would be, why was it bad enough to send away my girlfriend?" 

"We have to do another wake up test, Preston." Shepherd dared to use his first name, somehow thinking by adding his first name, that it would lessen the blow, "I need to make sure that the nerve isn't compressed, and the only way to do that is to wake you up."

"Induce the tremor by compression of the muscle around the nerve to see if the scar tissue presses on it..." Burke mumbled his thoughts aloud.

"Yes."

Burke was quiet for a moment, "This is how I got the tremor in the first place."

"If you can just talk to Cristina. She'd be better prepared for it, coming from you, she's stronger now- she could handle it." Derek began, his words mixed with a long exhale.

"No." Burke looked up to him, pain in his eyes, "I will not put her through that again. I will not let her see me like that again."

"Burke..."

"Absolutely not. Get Richard in there, get an intern in there, get somebody else. I don't want Cristina in there. It took her long enough to get over it the first time. Though she wouldn't readily admit it, it scared her, Shepherd, and I still haven't forgiven you and Richard for doing that to her." Burke snapped, "I won't allow it."

Derek nodded, but the words didn't seem to mesh in his head for a few moments, then he finally gave in to Burke's reprimand, "I'll schedule O'Malley to be there."

Burke gave him a curt nod, "That would be fine."

"We'll schedule you first thing in the morning." Derek left him in the room and he sunk back down in the chair, the levity of the situation coming to him.

Another wake up test.

He felt heavy with dread as he massaged the palm of his hand, thinking about the implications of another wake-up test. And silently thanked God that the anesthetics would work effectively enough that he'd never remember O'Malley being there.

It was then that Burke made the decision not to mention the wake up test to her, knowing that she'd feel as if she had something to prove, and she would make her way into the OR even though he refused for her to be there.

There was no anesthetic strong enough to numb him to Cristina's presence, and he didn't want to see that look in her eye ever again.

His mind drifted from the surgery to her, to what she would do or say if she knew that he was going to be put through a wake up test for a second time. He glanced to the bed where he'd be laying in a little over 24 hours, weak and vulnerable once again, but he took comfort in knowing that she would be there for him this time.

This time would be easier for the both of them, they had each other. It was more time for them. More time for Burke to picture the look in her eyes whenever she pulled the ring from the coffee mug. Time that no matter what the circumstances, it was time they had together.


	5. Day Four

Day Four

"I really wish he would've prescribed another antibiotic." Cristina mumbled nervously, her hair strewn about his chest as she lay against him, waiting for the patient transport to come and take him to surgery. "It has too many adverse reactions." 

"Are you an attending Cristina?" he teased, sensing her tension, trying to lighten her mood.

"I will be. One day. And nobody will remember your name ever again." She threatened, looking up to him with a heavy heart.

"I look forward to that day, Dr. Yang, though it will be many, many, many years in coming." He scoffed, emphasizing her professional title.

There was a knock on the door and George stood in the doorway, "It's time, Dr. Burke." He mumbled low, looking to Cristina as he advanced to the bed.

"I'm coming in." Cristina pulled herself from the bed, a sudden and unexpected rush of emotions coming over her as George pressed on the brake.

"No, you're not. We discussed this last night, Cristina." Burke grabbed her hand, and pulled her down, "You're not coming in there." 

George opened his mouth for a moment, then closed it again, remembering very vividly the threat that Dr. Shepherd had uttered to him if he spoke of the wake-up test anywhere outside of the OR.

"Burke, I can do this..." She mumbled, her heart aching in her chest, "I can do this."

"It's a short surgery, Cristina. Only a couple of hours. No time at all." He reassured her, "Go find Meredith like I told you to, go get some coffee."

She felt as if she were gasping for air and nodded, unable to respond.

"Cristina?"

She leaned over the bed and into him, "Yeah, baby?"

"I love you." His voice was a near whisper, and he looked longingly to her, wanting to hear the words.

But Cristina knew that she didn't have the strength to say them in that moment. She couldn't bring the syllables to her lips, so instead she pressed hers against his, uncaring if George was there.

She'd always be able to tell him later.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Vital signs are holding stable." George reported to Derek as he finished removing the last of the scar tissue, his movements steady and deliberate.

"That's the last of it, now we have to see if he's free from these damning tremors." Derek sighed through his surgical mask, nodding to the anesthesiologist.

They slowly weaned down the Brevital drip and waited for a few moments, idly chattering over Burke's still unconscious form, until they saw the spike in is his vital sign indicating that his central nervous system was no longer under the effects of the depressing agent.

George leaned over, "Hey, Burke...Burke."

He stirred slightly, but still wouldn't come around, "He's as stubborn drugged as he is when he's awake." Shepherd joked.

After several more unsuccessful attempts, George smiled inwardly, knowing exactly how to get Burke's motor running. "Hey Burke, remember that time...that I lived with you, and Cristina came out of the bedroom naked."

Burke's eyes opened wide and he caught George's eye for only a moment as he began to thrash on the table violently, and George grabbed his face.

Burke struggled against the tube, biting down on it, his eyes rolling back in his head as he tried to force himself to focus on something, focus on the wall, the ceiling, anything in the room.

His eyes finally came to focus on a solitary figure in the gallery, long black curls covering a reddened face and he began to relax, thankful that she was stubborn, that she wouldn't listen.

Thankful, that this time she was there.

"We're going to compress the muscle now." Derek leaned over him as he slowed, "Then you can go back under."

Burke tried to swallow against the tube as he felt as shooting pain from his shoulder to his chest, and he groaned in pain.

"His vitals are all over the place!" George exclaimed as Burke began to move more under his grasps.

Shepherd looked up to the monitor, "Shit, he's in v-tach...push 1 of atropine, try to slow the rhythm down."

Cristina looked on horrified, the numbers on the screen at first lurching upward at a rapid rate, and slowly working their way down on the monitor. She laid her hand on the glass, watching them work quickly and methodically, pushing meds on him to bring his heart rate back up and she turned away, sliding down the glass to the floor, her knees drawn to her chest as she heard the commands being shouted from Derek in rapid and angry fashion.

Pain continued to shoot from Burke's chest towards his shoulder as he felt the burn of meds flushing their way through his system, his heart pounding in his ear and he fought with his own body, trying to look up to the gallery again, trying to find her, trying to get a glimpse of her, and all he could see was the top of her head, those wild black tresses he loved so much.

And everything around him faded to black.

"We have no rhythm!" Cristina heard the words in her ear through the speaker of the gallery, and squeezed her eyes closed, it was a bad dream.

It couldn't happen like this. It wouldn't end like this.

They had more time.

The scuffle of a code blue situation played itself out in her ear, and she drew her hands up to the side of her head, trying to muffle the noises of them placing the paddles to his chest and the rhythmic tick of the watch that he'd purchased for her on a whim soothed her.

The tick was dramatically slower than her respirations, the rate of her heart beating, slower than the thoughts racing through her head, but it gave her a focal point.

The sound of time, running out, running away was the only thing keeping her detached from the cruel reality going on right behind her.

She laid on the floor of the gallery, her body wrenching in pain from the work it took for her to refuse the tears building up in her eyes to fall as she heard the words.

"Time of death, 7:45."


	6. Day Five

Day 5

Cristina sat silently in the locker room, trying to remember what her scrubs used to feel like against her skin.

She was numb. She couldn't feel anything the same anymore.

Her eyes glanced up at the interns, the people she worked with surrounding her and she made a face, "What the hell are you people looking at?" She muttered angrily, rising from the bench.

"Cristina, you shouldn't be here." Meredith was the first to speak. "You need to take some time off."

Cristina shook her head, anger already burning through her for the oncoming confrontation, "I don't need anything off. Time of is for weaklings. For people who care. I don't care."

She felt the bile rising in the back of her throat as she uttered the words, but she shoved it back down along with the emotion and the pain, focusing on the task at hand.

She had to work.

"Cristina, I would've taken time..." Izzie began, but was interrupted by George's elbow in her side.

"Shut it." George hissed at her.

The opening and closing of the locker room door brought their attention away from her and she let out a long sigh, looking from behind Meredith to Bailey, who's face was obviously tear streaked and she fell behind her co-workers again, "Grey, you're with Dr. Montgomery, Karev with Sloane, Izzie, you're in the pit, O'Malley, scut."

Her voice was uncharacteristically soft, her words hallowed with sadness and the interns departed quietly, not questioning their assignments, not voicing the implied emotion stirred within her.

"Dr. Bailey, what's my assignment?" Cristina questioned her, unable to look her in the eye.

"Cristina, what are you doing here?" She shook her head, her clipboard dropping to her side.

"I'm here to work, Dr. Bailey. I'm an intern. It's what I'm supposed to do. Are there any cool surgeries today? Maybe something neuro, because I'm really worn out on cardio."

Bailey stood amazed in front of this girl as she rambled off words at fifty miles a minute, knowing that she didn't mean any of them. "Cristina. You need to go home. You need to go home and take time off." She spoke slowly, setting her hand on her arm, but Cristina jerked away.

"I don't need to go home. I need to work." She protested, "Don't tell me what I need, I know what I need. I need to work."

Bailey frowned, and felt the tears sting the corners of her eyes as she knew exactly what it was that Cristina needed.

She needed Burke.

But Burke was gone, and he'd left this poor girl in his aftermath. This girl that had no heart, no soul, and no emotion, and he gave her those things.

Then he left her.

"Cristina Yang, you will not work until I say you can, and I think you'll find that Dr. Webber will agree with me." She puckered her lips, putting on a fake and very transparent display of anger, "You will go home, and you will stay home."

Bailey yanked open the door to the locker room, finding her interns standing there, "Grey! Take Yang home, now. And stay with her for the love of God."

Meredith shuffled back into the room and grabbed Cristina's arm, "You heard her, Cristina...we have to go home."

"Why do I have to go home? I'm perfectly fine to work!" Cristina protested, angrily, nearly screaming at Bailey. "Just let me fucking work! Just let me do my fucking job!"

Webber appeared in the doorway of the locker room, Dr. Shepherd behind him and Webber pushed through, "Dr. Yang. Leave my hospital or I'll put you on suspension and you won't work for a month."

Cristina froze under his gaze, her mouth open in protest and she shook her head, "You people are pathetic." She muttered, yanking open her locker and pulling her bag from it.

She stalked past the interns, the attendings, the nurses all looking at her, pity in their eyes and she only grew more livid.

She heard the whispers, the rumors that rang so eerily close the truth that it hurt.

'Have you heard that she hasn't shed a tear since he died?'

'She's cold anyway. If she cried it'd probably be icecicles.'

'I heard that Shepherd prescribed the wrong antibiotic, something that made his heart muscle weaker or something. Whatever it was, I don't see how she could hang out with his girlfriend.'

'Cristina Yang is a robot'

Cristina came to a halt to glare at the eyes following her every move, her airway constricted, and she choked out, "Can't you people just mind your own fucking business? Seriously? There are people in this hospital that are sick...that are dying! Can't you fucking pay attention to them!"

Meredith grabbed her arm, "Cristina." She spoke in a hushed tone, "We can go back to my place."

"No, I'm going back to my apartment." The words burned her lips.

Her apartment.

It wasn't theirs anymore. Nothing would be theirs anymore. Their time had run out.

And it was time for her to face reality.


	7. Day Six

Day 6

Meredith stood quietly at the counter of the kitchen, glancing into the bedroom at Cristina sleeping, her body molded against a pillow that she could only assume was Burke's and she dabbed at the tears forming in the corner of her eyes.

She had tried so very hard to get Cristina to talk last night, to get her to let out the tears, the frustration, but all that remained in her was anger.

Anger that Derek had given him the wrong antibiotic. Anger that she couldn't work.

There was no sadness within her, or so it seemed.

She laid her elbows on the counter and brought her face to her hand as she cried again for the third time in thirty minutes, frustrated that she couldn't help her friend, that she couldn't help her to grieve for what she had lost, that she couldn't get her to grieve at all.

Cristina woke with a start, her face buried in his pillow and she heard Meredith's stifled sob and rolled her eyes.

She couldn't understand how people could be so pathetically mournful.

She rose from the bed and walked to the closet grabbing a pair of his pajama pants and his favorite Tulane t-shirt and pulled them on, his scent wrapping around her, tugging at her heart, but she pushed it away.

Meredith stood with a jolt when she heard Cristina shuffle to the doorway, and wiped the tears away, "Good morning." She mumbled, "I'm going to make breakfast, are you hungry?"

She turned to the cupboard she'd seen Burke open so many times while he was going 'all Iron Chef' in the kitchen as Cristina referred to it, and a black velvet box tumbled from the cupboard to the rim of the sink, knocking it open and landed to the floor, its contents skidding across the floor to Cristina's feet.

Cristina knelt down to the floor, afraid to pick it up for a moment, the she'd been working so hard to suppress rushing upwards, the tears building up in her eyes, the lump in her throat growing larger.

Her gaze was fixed on the diamond ring laying just inches from her, and she reached out for it, and picked it up, the cold metal in her hands, and slid it on her finger. Simple movements.

Simple movements that he was supposed to carry out.

Not her.

She fell the rest of the way to the ground her body overcome with grief and she began to sob violently against the door jam of their bedroom, her heart exploding with a million emotions she couldn't identify, her mind racing with the possibilities that lie before them.

That had lied before them.

Now they were gone.

Meredith came to her side, enfolding her in her arms, "Cristina..." She breathed, tears coming from her own eyes.

"He's gone...he's gone..." She could only choke out the words. She couldn't get anything else out, over and over again, she mumbled that he was gone. Making it more painfully real each time.

"Cristina...his body is gone, but his spirit is here with you." Meredith sniffed, hugging her tighter. "He's not completely gone."

"He's gone, dammit! Quit trying to make me feel better with that spirit crap, because that's just lame!" She raged tears still flowing freely.

Meredith tried to stifle a minute chuckle, even in grief, Cristina was still herself, "I thought I'd try..."

"Meredith?" She managed to get the words out in between sobs.

"Yeah?"

"Shut up." She continued to cry in her friends arms, losing count of the tears she allowed to spill down her cheek, losing control of the weakness and vulnerability she worked so hard for the past two days to mask.

He was gone.

After she had no more tears to cry, she looked down to her hand, the ring that he'd left for her, or so it had seemed and swallowed hard, her fingers running over it.

"I never told him that I loved him...not while he was awake. I couldn't ever say the words. He was going to propose to me, and I couldn't even tell him that I loved him." She was empty.

Numb.

"He knows how much you love him."

"He knew, you mean. Past tense." She reminded her friend, her voice bitter.

Meredith wasn't able to say anything, but persisted after her with a sadness in her eyes that was undeniable. There were no words to make it better. To take away her pain.

There were no words to make it easier.

Cristina's finger slid over the ring he'd gotten her, and her heart ache as she came to realize the meaning behind it.

It was a past, present and future band, and tears began to spill once again as she came to realize that while they had a past, there was no present, and there was no future.


	8. Epilogue

Jane Burke watched from the back of the small chapel where her son's funeral was to be held as Cristina advanced slowly to the front of it, and she gasped for air, unable to imagine the pain that Cristina was feeling.

Indeed, it was her son that had passed away, and she was in a great deal of pain herself, but as Cristina told her of the engagement ring that had made itself known in his wake, she felt that Cristina's pain was much more unimaginable.

Cristina took in a deep breath as she advanced towards the open casket and cursed Meredith for the notion that they needed to leave it open. That she needed to see him one last time, since she refused to see him at the hospital.

Tears slowly began to slide from her face as she stood just a few feet away from the man that she loved.

Was it past tense if the man you love if dead? She thought bitterly, the lump in her throat growing larger. She ran her fingers over her ring, over and over again, trying to ground herself to something.

Meredith was at her side, her arm around her waist, pushing her forward. "You have to do this Cristina, or you'll never be able to live with yourself." She whispered to her in a hushed voice.

"Mer, I can't." Her breaths quickened in panic as Meredith brought her closer and closer to all that remained of Burke.

"You can. I'm here. I can help you." She reassured her, in a firm voice.

Cristina closed her eyes trying to gather some sort of composure, and reopened them as her grasp came onto the simple gold band that lay in the pocket of her jacket, pulling it out.

She studied it for a long moment and wished that she had listened to Meredith whenever she suggested having it engraved with something mushy, but she said that it was pointless to do so.

He'd never read it anyway.

She laid her hand over Burke's and she stiffened, her mind wandering to what could've been.

Somewhere, Cristina knew, that deep in her little girl fantasy, she imagined the big ceremonious wedding with the white dress and the veil, the flowers and the music, and the reception where he could pull her close and dance with her, whispering of the night to come.

Somewhere, Cristina knew, that had he asked sooner, had life not gotten in their way, that she would've put up a fight somewhere along the way in the process of the planning of the wedding, just for show.

But secretly, secretly she would love it.

She could see herself, standing before him, their hands trembling nervously as they slid rings onto each other's fingers, binding themselves to the other for a lifetime.

They would've made it. She thought to herself. They would've been together forever, and nothing would've ever torn them apart.

Cristina might've even given into the idea of having a child with him.

But only one.

She grasped his limp and lifeless hand in hers and slid the ring down his finger, vowing that she would never love again.

She could never love another again like she loved Burke.

Tears fell on her dress as she opened her mouth to say the words to him, just one time.

But she couldn't, the words still wouldn't come to her. She tried to force them from her lips, tie her tongue around them, anything, but she couldn't choke out the words, so she swallowed them back down, with her bitterness and sadness, wiping the tears away.

She laid his hand back down and bent over, kissing his forehead, and walked away.

Jane laid a hand on her shoulder as she left the chapel and she looked to her, sadness in her eyes, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Burke...about Preston."

"I'm sorry, Cristina." Jane choked on the tears she held back, "About Burke."

Cristina took in a sharp inhale and nodded, then left the chapel, Meredith by her side.

She would not stay for the service. She had said all she could say, done everything that she could do.

It was time for her to heal.


End file.
